a/n: My little (well…) LxNaomi oneshot. Tried to get into Naomi's head a little bit here; don't know how well that worked. Very, very long winded too. I guess I don't know when to shut up. I'm not sure how satisfied I am with this, but I'm too tired of it to go any further; this thing had been on my hard drive for months while I picked at it like a scavenging bird for so long I finally just had to finish it. It made me want to shoot myself on several occasions. Enjoy the psycho-babble, or at least some much needed sensuality between L and a -gasp!- canon woman. Rated for a lemon; it's fairly clean. Nothing you could call a hardcore romp.
The BB Murder Cases was eerie. Nisiosin has much to be proud of.
Don't own Death Note. And I'm happy I don't, because if I was one of the creators and saw what the fans were doing to my characters, I think I might keel over. With laughter or vomit; can't decide which. Maybe both at the same time. (Hypocrisy…gotta love it)
Latin - a trial, proof, test, attempt
And she had completely and utterly lost her mind.
The paths people walk on throughout their lives were ambiguous and scary indeed, but never did she believe an act like this would stroll right into her sight. Right into her existence. A charmer. Ick, not the description she wanted to glue to him, not even at this point. He was otherworldly; completely unlike something she could touch or see.
And his voice…that droning almost condescending voice. She didn't want to hear him either.
Strange how things can change so much in the course of life.
The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases hardly left her feeling a sense of closure, not even an ounce of satisfaction. She closed the case with a good riddance flick of her hand and a heavy heart. The entire experience still left a sharp and coppery taste in her mouth, like her tongue would bleed each time she spoke or even thought about it. The memories gnawed at her soul.
To see someone who resembled the immaculately made-up and hideously charred Beyond Birthday sitting right in front of her was unnerving indeed. Like she recalled the last time she saw him in the subway two years ago, he was real. There was nothing fake about this version of Ryuuzaki. He radiated truth and justice, this one. She didn't feel like she was being led on towards anything when she was with him. After B had successfully led her through the perilous steps of the Wara Ningyo murders, she was quite sure that she no longer took kindly to following other people.
Quite the problem, especially when you work for the FBI.
Correction, worked for the FBI.
Naomi had kicked the real copy down the stairwell of a subway cavern after he had 'attacked' her, which was simply the act the throwing his arms around her shoulders like they were long lost friends or something. At the time she didn't understand that in a way they were, but at that moment, despite how familiar he was to her, he was just another weird looking creepy bum who thought it fine to cop a feel. The second his arms draped themselves around her, the logistic side of her brain shut down, the side that asked questions and considered the outcomes of her actions, and a seconds later he was a heap at the bottom of a set of concrete stairs. Unharmed, but pleasantly unsettled.
The secrecy that surrounded L was seemingly infinite, but a few years after the capture of Beyond Birthday, a man with a black dead animal on his head for hair, a pasty complexion, baggy attire, and thick gray bags under his eyes approached her again. Naomi can hardly say that she had forgotten that B had sported the same appearance; Rue Ryuuzaki's appearance, to make his plans possible. The resemblance was not a welcome element.
Months later, while Ray Penbar was diligently working at his 'second love', Naomi Misora and L Lawliet sat in a suite in the highest room in his ridiculously large headquarters drinking coffee, naturally with his overflowing with grains of sugar while she had a cup of black with just the tiniest hint of cream. Her eyes wanted to smile when he offered her a normal amount of the processed white flavor enhancer, but she declined peacefully.
It was late afternoon. The sun was descending behind the horizon, and the golden beams shined into the suite, warming Naomi's skin, but doing nothing to console the indescribable feelings that were swimming and futilely tangling around each other in her stomach. But instead of voicing such unimportant details, she sat there and quietly sipped her pungent coffee.
L sat hunched over his knees on the balls of his feet like a giant bird ready to take flight from its roost. Each drink he took from his cup earned a satisfied humming sound as the sugar marinated his mouth. She just couldn't take her eyes off of him. There was something scary about him; something that she just couldn't comprehend. It could be that he was nearly identical to the criminal whom she unknowingly worked with three years ago. Or it could be that she was finally face to face with that high pitched voice that could've been applied in her doll that she played with as a child. The very voice which she wished to hear each time she answered any phone she owned, any communication device she was near.
While Ray was busy with his hidebound department, she was staring at her new reason to rise each morning. The voice had a body. The voice had a face. Eyes. Skin. Clothes. Eyes like puddles of rain on black asphalt. A pair of thin pale lips, chapped from pursing, cracked from neglect. Hair, flared and obsidian.
The voice was a human.
The turmoil within her at that moment was whether she wanted to accept that or not.
With nothing but a psyche filled with lacerations from the past, she went to the same train station when she finally saw him. Finally saw the voice that was nothing but a revered ghost until then. His appearance was just like Rue Ryuuzaki's. But there was something different; in the eyes.
Both pairs were dark, brooding, and sinfully attentive. But only one pair harbored something that subtly whispered the onslaught of destruction and chaos.
Madness as well.
Misora looked at L's eyes. Not Rue's. L's. And saw that they harbored no hatred. No insanity. Sadness perhaps. Joy that was tightly locked away for the greater good, yes. But nothing that meant harm to the outside world.
It pleased her to look at L's face. Her boss's face.
He treated her with a respect and resolution that she never ever attained while being in the FBI. Who knew that she could solve whatever task he set before her. Who never once questioned her abilities in a way that would make her feel run down; always in the fashion that would make her want to prove herself.
After she couldn't shoot that child who was the very criminal her squad was after, she questioned herself. Her very being. Her body was a waste of space. Her mind was a waste of cells.
Until he contacted her and gave her his request, telling her to destroy her brand new laptop to prevent anyone else from tracking him. There was no way she could turn down a call from the world's best detective.
The years were never kind. It was only three years since her last case, she felt like she had aged about twenty. She didn't like to look in mirrors anymore in fear that she sprouted more crow's feet on her face. She wasn't afraid of growing old in the sense that she was obsessed with her youth; what petrified her was how fast her life was going by. Although time squished together sometimes and never seemed to budge, it was also flying past her, barely ruffling her silky hair on the way.
She stared at her recruiter, now truly and utterly revealed to her for the first time, and time was finally standing still. Letting her gaze at him and all of his unorthodox glory as he sat in a chair right next to the drawn-back curtains, slightly eclipsed by the turned-evening rays.
"You're very quiet, Naomi Misora." He said suddenly, and softly.
Her eyes flickered in surprise. Such a deep monotonous voice. Aloof, firm, decisive. Yet smooth and reassuring. Say he were to utter such a cliché sentence like 'it's going to be alright', she would have believed him in an instant. But he would never say something like that. It was unrealistic. Because the both of them knew that not everything turns out alright in the end.
"I'm sitting in the same room as my boss. It's customary to stay quiet in the presence of a superior." Naomi said, reciting what her mind had rehearsed so many times during her career.
L gave her a blank stare. "Your boss I may be, but a superior…" He trailed off, and started anew. "I much prefer the Misora who is on the verge of discovery. She's a lot more endearing."
Naomi couldn't help but smile at that. "What would you like me to talk about then, L?"
The two dark hollows that were his eyes showed life as his narrow lips turned upwards. "Always ready to be dictated, I see."
"How about this room, for starters. Are we being watched?"
"Only by Watari." L said simply. "But I think that fact is rather comforting, and should not contribute to any paranoia you may have about being seen here with me."
"I'm used to being watched." Naomi said, referring to L's close eye on her during the Los Angeles case. "I just hope neither of us are in any danger by being here."
"You? No. Myself…" L brought up the pad of his thumb and ran it across his bottom lip. "I am behind on my casework now."
Naomi's eyes widened. "Then by all means, kick me out. The last thing I want to do is-" She stopped herself when she was met with yet another blank but intense stare from him.
"I chose to bring you here. And now I will spend time with you."
She said nothing to that. He picked up his cup again and took a long deep sip from its rim.
For the first time in the hours since she first came into physical contact with L, she thought about Ray. How his smiles that she once thought were so wonderful were actually quite patronizing. How his hand on her leg or shoulder or breast never radiated a heat a lover had for another; it was simply another push to get her down a notch. Whatever that meant, though. She was so educated in the ways of the world…
But her personal life was something of a different story.
"You've gone quiet again." L said. "And you look sad."
From his demeanor and his line of work, she never would have figured that he would have even acknowledged such small trifling details that were linked to her emotions.
What was she sad about, exactly?
L's face was boldly curious now. She could only stare open mouthed as he gently set his cup down on the table beside him, and rose somehow skillfully from his chair. The sun hit his back, crafting a bright but morose silhouette. Part of her wanted to run as he walked over to her. But it wasn't out of fear. His hunched posture curved even more as he bent down further to look into her face, making it so her face was five inches away from his own. Naomi's eyes widened and her breathing became shallow and undetectable.
"Why are you sad, Naomi?"
He was too close. So adjacent that he might finally be able to feel her thoughts trying to escape her skull. Naomi's eyes flickered downward, unable to handle the severe analyzing gaze of the detective at the moment.
"I'm…finally here with you."
Though she couldn't see, he blinked.
"I'm here with you and…you're real."
She hated that she was probably making no sense. Hated that she was making a fool of herself in front of the one person she so desperately wanted to prove herself to.
"Why would I be anything else?" He asked. There was something different in his voice. It was no longer bland. But she didn't know what it was. His breath was warm on her face. She wanted to flee, but her body planted itself where it could not be ignored.
"You're only supposed to be a voice, L." She whispered. "And…here you are, in front of me, like someone who came back from the dead or something."
Tears were threatening to seep from her ducts when the sentence she wanted to put forth next popped into her head.
"…Why do you have to look like him?"
"Like who?" L asked softly.
The proximity shifted, and he was no longer inches away. He backed off, and stood up as straight as his crooked skeleton could bear. Naomi dared to look at his face now that he was farther away. Now he looked lamenting as well.
"I look like Beyond Birthday because he was my backup." L said simply. "B modeled his appearance, his mannerisms, and his reasoning skills after mine for when the time came to replace me."
He bent down again, leaning forward to put a smooth and clammy hand on top of hers which lay upon the chair's armrest.
"But rest assured, I am nothing like B."
His eyes were wide, and accompanied with the plaintive smile now gracing those papery lips of his, he looked completely innocent. And that made it worse. Naomi had trouble blinking the tears out of her eyes, and one slipped out by mistake. Before it even had a chance to fall from her face, a deft thumb came up and smeared it away. She flinched from the contact, though not for the reason that he thought.
"I didn't mean to." L said, referring to whatever it was he must have done to make her cringe like that.
His touch sent electricity of epic proportions through her body, and she knew she shouldn't. He was nothing like B. He wasn't B. He was L. Frank, subtle, candid, kind, sweet L.
"What am I to you?" Naomi asked quietly, still finding it laborious to keep eye contact with him for more than a few seconds at a time.
L stood up 'straight' once again, and put the tip of his index finger in between his bottom lip and his gums. He seemed so much taller when she was the one sitting in the chair.
"Naomi Misora is…my agent, my representative, my shield…."
He glanced down at her as if questioning if he forgot anything.
With each word, Naomi sank deeper into her chair. "What about a friend?"
"…No, not quite." He said gently.
She had no idea what those ginger undertones were in his voice. She had the brainpower to decipher anything he was saying, really, but her intellectual judgment was taking a vacation. Now her emotions were behind the wheel, and they were not doing a very good job at following the traffic rules.
Rising from her chair, she stood in front of him. His hunch made him seem much less tall than when she was sitting down and looking up, but that gave her little comfort. He was the craftiest sleuth in the entire world and her, up until now, formless, subordinate and she still wasn't sure about how she felt about him. Abandoning any bit of logical reasoning that hadn't already been cleared, she grasped his sharp shoulders and pulled him closer. L's absent eyebrows bunched together in surprise and inquiry.
"Friends do this?" He asked, his voice low.
"But I'm not your friend, am I?"
The nearness was stifling. Her initiative was scaring her, but she had to find some way to voice her emotions without spilling a bunch of word vomit. No…L would not find that attractive at all.
"What am I to you, L?" She asked again.
His bent knees and warped spine made him the same height as she, but still, still, he seemed taller. That concentrated stare of his sent chills flickering under her skin, but they did not consist solely of fear.
"I already said you're-"
He froze as Naomi gently planted her forehead against the pale skin of his own. She had no idea what she was doing anymore. As was inferred earlier the rational side of her mind had shut down long ago, and now she was just acting on pure instinctual urges. Why, she didn't know. And that would tear her up inside later, but at the moment she ceased to care. She could only imagine what he thought of her uninhibited actions; in fact, that was the only bit of prudence she had retained. But even that wasn't enough to bring her out of her daze.
"I saw him burn…L." She whispered shakily. "I saw him burn. And he almost died. In a way…you had been the one to burn."
"How many times must I reassure you, Naomi?" He said, not making any motion to disconnect their foreheads. "I'm not B."
His sonorous voice vibrated through his head and into hers. She must have looked like such a childish person
"I know…" She said, and then made the smallest humorless laugh. "But I just can't get him out of my head. I don't think I ever will."
A hand came out of nowhere and cupped her jaw line, moving her away just slightly. A curious look was on L's face. He was perplexed, but there was a bemused playfulness gleaming in his shadowy eyes.
"I doubt either of us will forget someone like B. But the only thing I wish to know at this time…"
His hand moved from her jaw to her hair. He was touching her. L was touching her. But it didn't make sense. He knew she had a fiancé. This just had to be platonic.
"…is how I can convince you that I am not Rue Ryuuzaki."
Her eyes widened. His voice had changed again. Still low, but it resonated something that screamed anything but platonic.
Part of her fainted, and her head dipped downward and placed her lips mellifluously against his in a single noiseless shift. There was no time to savor the feeling and she pulled away quickly. She didn't want to look at him, but she couldn't help herself as she searched his face for a reaction. His face looked blank at first glance, but his eyes leaned downward at some invisible thing on the floor like he was mulling something over. As if to verify that old habits died hard, he raised a hand to his face and sheltered his thumb between his lips. And then, he smiled.
The smile almost whisked her fears away; everything unfortunate that she harbored within her being. An elixir.
It wasn't large. It was wide enough to show his off-white teeth, but minute and subtle. Nothing about him exuded purity, but at the same time nothing revoked a certain innocence that clung to him like a soft black feather on a raven.
"This is unexpected." Was all he said.
Naomi was drowning in insecurity. She was unaware of what she had actually asked him through the brief touch of their lips. It would be a very welcome thing for her absurdity to disappear. If only the other agents could see her now; their honored Misora Massacre was reduced to a blushing young girl.
Only Ray was ever able to make her feel this way…like lava was flowing through her veins instead of blood.
"You ask for something very substantial." L said. He took a shuffled step towards her. Then another. And she moved back each time until her calves hit the bed; that was when she bit her lip.
"Aren't you conflicted?" He asked, reaching out to her. "Aren't you at all frightened by your loss of reserve?"
The hand, never knowing an erotic touch, found the nape of her neck. And so did the other. They grasped her, pulling her close like she had done to him before, only with so much more directed intent.
"Well?" He pressed. She would have fallen onto the bed if it weren't for him holding her upright.
Naomi didn't answer him right away. Instead she closed the distance between them, this time knowing quite well what she was doing. It was the first time she realized how starved she was for resolve, for some form of tenacity. It was undisclosed whether or not she would find it in the detective, in L, but…she pushed herself to find out. Though she had technically known him for three years, he wasn't familiar enough for her to know if he would let her quench her hunger. So far he had been vacantly lucid, indifferent even, to her advances. Even as he touched her she didn't get the feeling that there was any zeal in his actions. A reaction…she wanted a reaction.
Her lips were bordering on aggressive, but she hadn't yet plucked up the courage to separate the groove between his own. His boundaries were unknown. His ways were unknown. So she pulled away, disliking the feel of their lips' disengaged contact, but she had to answer him.
"I'm more conflicted than you would ever know, L."
Now he looked sad. His hands left her neck and she gently fell backwards onto the scarlet colored blankets of the bed.
"You are no friend of mine." He said lowly, honestly.
The words pierced her ears like sanded needles. Blunt and painful. It dissipated as soon as he spoke again.
"...Then again, I'm not quite sure what you are, Naomi."
He leaned in towards her, and she reflexively recoiled until she was on her back. Her view of the ceiling was soon obstructed by L hovering over the entirety of her body. Boney knees gently squeezed her thighs together, and she tried her hardest to ignore her haywire heart as her eyes followed the arms on either side of her head to his shadowed visage.
The sun was setting. The rays were being pulled into the crevice of the horizon.
Suddenly, he backed off and looked up towards the ceiling. In a clear concise voice, a string of intelligible numbers and letters passed through his lips.
"Override camera E-14, code 009176."
"What was that for?" Naomi asked breathlessly, slightly shaken out of the mist of yearning that had cruelly taken over her brain.
"I cancelled out Watari's connection to this room. Since I have a vague idea of what is about to take place I thought it was necessary. He'll probably thank me as well."
It didn't matter how little time she wanted to give her brain to comprehend what was about to transpire; images faster than light raced through her mind. It would be wise to reconsider this decision; to think it over a little more before going through with it. In some people's eyes what she was about to do would be immoral and just another gross incident of adultery. But it was hard to think about things like that when she knew that this was what she had wanted ever since the end of the BB Murder Cases. To meet that voice, know it was real, know that it wasn't the same as Rue Ryuuzaki…
And to acknowledge her feelings, which she kept locked up tight so not even she would have to deal with them on a daily basis.
Ray was an amazing substitute for what she truly desired, that much was true at this point.
A rush of gratitude mixed with absolute incredulity flew across the surface of her skin. L was being such a good sport about her bewildering behavior. Perhaps it was unwise to think that he was doing this for any reason other than to keep her flaring conduct at bay. But that didn't quite make sense either. He surely didn't seem like the type to do something if he didn't want to. He didn't have to. Everything he did was of his own accord. And as the seconds ticked away, that was growing easier to believe as he lowered himself and planted the lightly cracked plane of his lips softly against the sharpness of her jaw. Naomi's eyes opened and closed slowly, her mouth parted to at least attempt to let her fleeting breath find some relief.
It didn't even feel like infidelity. It felt like…
The truth was undressing itself.
And compared to lies, truth had the right to anything and everything. It rode on a high horse, as well it should.
L rose so that he stood on his knees, still straddling her thighs. Unceremoniously he gripped the bottom of his off-white baggy shirt and removed the layer with ease. Naomi's mouth, opened earlier for just the passing of breath, opened even wider in mild shock. Snap judgments would call him scrawny. Perhaps they were right. There was not an ounce of fat on his body. Sharp protruding hip bones were the only things keeping his baggy jeans from falling down.
It was funny, watching him take off half his clothing. He didn't pretend to be suave; he didn't make any notion that he was putting on a show. He simply…took it off. There were no lies in anything he did. And his torso was bare, pale as the whitest egg, with only the sparsest trail of body hair traveling from below the beltline of his pants to the small delicate fissure of his navel.
Naomi's eyes lost all concept of shame for a moment, and took the sight in.
He wasn't beautiful. No, that wasn't the word for him at all.
But there were magnets under that grayish skin; magnets that pulled her to him like the center of the universe pulled the very Earth itself.
She roasted under him. It had been easy up until then to ignore the rising temperature, but the beads of sweat that slid like brooks down the crease in her upper back made it evident. Naomi reached up and took off her long sleeve sweatshirt that she had gotten in the FBI training academy and revealed a paper thin white tank top. Just her luck, she had worn a black bra that day, and fate subdued a snicker. But the heat ceased to die down.
And soon the tank top wetly sticking to her skin was also a thing of the past.
Half naked in front of L.
Moments ago, she couldn't have seen this happening. Ever. The heat was still rising. But this time it didn't lick her skin with the intention to burn. It pooled in regions of her body that were sure fire signals that the coil was starting to tighten.
His expression was rather unreadable as his eyes gazed at her exposed skin. Her stomach was pale as well, but not in the way that his was. The moon would smile in familiarity at her similar complexion.
Her flexible arms reached behind her and found the clasp that lied flat against her back. In a silent snap of release, her bra slackened and was discarded with one last hint of shyness.
No one would particularly call her insanely endowed. Her breasts were large enough to fit into the entirety of her hands, and that was good enough for her. Besides, more often than not they were taped down tight against her upper body for increased stealth and agility. There was no getting around it; breasts got in the way when it came to her old line of work. It was only in these intimate moments that she and they would get reacquainted. As well as whomever she showed them to. The soft orbs relaxed against her chest, completely free, and she felt surprisingly liberated. She was about to start on the other half of her body when L, who had been like a statue for the latest moments, finally moved.
He reached down and touched the skin of her stomach with his knuckles. Her abdominals tensed with sensitivity, but it was nothing compared to when they finally traveled to her right mound. The areola that was the size of a silver dollar swelled at the contact. With a look of bemused curiosity on his long sharp face, he massaged her breast, grazing her nipple with the pad of his thumb and palm on several occasions. Her breathing speed increased immensely and her chest rose and fell quicker than before. L noticed this, and looked at her perplexedly, as if he were to silently ask if she was okay or if something was wrong.
She blinked at his greenness in this area in return. Never had she met someone so outrageously intelligent, and yet so shockingly inexperienced. It wasn't as if she had slept with many people herself, however it was obvious enough that L was going on pure instinct. Of course…there was nothing wrong with that. Regardless of his experience in the field of sex, he performed with a subtle confidence that she couldn't quite place.
A brush of ebony hair against her collar bone made her jump in surprise. L had pulled himself down and began to press his lips up inquisitively against one of her breasts, the other firmly grasped in his sinuous hand. Cracked as they were, his lips latched onto her nipple and accidentally caught her with his teeth. She gasped loudly; they were so swollen and hard that even the brush of a feather could've irritated them. His ministrations stopped abruptly, and she lifted her head up to peer through the valley of her breasts at a faintly apologetic face.
"I caused you pain." He stated rather than asked.
"N-no, you just startled me is all." She responded.
"Forgive me." He said with the faintest of smiles. "I've never done this before."
His chin that was practically resting on her muscular diaphragm sported the most meager of facial hair; it tingled against her skin. And warm…it was so warm. How could such a colorless man be so warm?
"Never?" Naomi asked breathily.
The smile widened. Much like someone who was trying to keep themselves from laughing.
He climbed back up to her level and kissed her. This time it was much different from before. Their previous kiss was dry and tentative. Unresponsive. Now his lips were shamelessly wet, and seemingly wanted to swallow hers up and drown them in the warm cavern of his mouth. And as much as she disliked insanely sweet things, the hint of sugar in his saliva only made her hungrier.
Then, sudden as always, he drew away and sat up on his knees again.
"Might I remove my pants? They're getting awfully tight around the waist."
Naomi couldn't help but smile as she nodded her head. It was hard to believe such a baggy pair of jeans could ever become constricted, but then again maybe she just didn't know her own strength when it came to the ways of seduction.
L stood from the bed and unhooked the button on the waist and pulled down his zipper. Like socks had taken the high road from his wardrobe, apparently so did boxers. Naomi propped herself up on her elbows and watched as he nonchalantly took off the last of his clothing. She could hear her own throat as it gulped thickly; her mouth parted in unease at the thoughts racing through her mind as soon as he was completely bare. L possessed such a weird looking body, all acute nooks and crannies. And yet… her hands reached down to her own pants and began undoing the buttons.
Even while naked he didn't change his demeanor one bit. As she slowly removed her pants as if in a daze, he leaned on the edge of the bed and chewed on the tip of his index finger. It would have felt like a child was gazing at her as she undressed if it weren't for the pool of lust that craftily hid in the black ponds of his eyes; not giving way to the tempting yearn that he had to undoubtedly have, but all the while silently telling her to keep going.
Black underwear was something that she always wore, whether it was for daily garb or for the private moments between her and Ray when either of them were feeling frisky and decided that black lace would suffice quite well in their romps. She slid her legs out of her dark blue jeans and heard a quiet shuffle as they fell to the floor.
"You're still wearing more than I am."
It was odd how every time he spoke he seemed to startle her. Just as well; as much as she wanted to be with him, to go into stupor was not her style, nor her nature. She reached down and hooked her thumbs around the thinnest parts of her panties, pulled them down to her thighs, and then gracefully slid out her willowy calves out of the two holes. Her legs were just as white as the rest of her body, contrasted by the coarse patch of dark hair in her pubic region that she hadn't bothered to pay attention to in ages.
Her eyes skillfully fixated themselves on the detective before her, as if to say 'there, we're both equal'. Being the genius that he was, L understood. But he decided to take his sweet time. The sensation of fingers and palms on her legs made her squirm. She hadn't shaved them in months, and he didn't seem like the type to care about such things, but it made her feel slightly insecure anyway. They traveled up, up up, paying attention to every pore and curve, to the inside of her thigh.
Naomi began to tremble. Not out of fear, for once. His warm fingers were inching closer and closer to her wiry patch of curls and the soft wet center they concealed.
And then they touched her. Her jaw dropped in a soundless moan. The tips of his fingers separated the curls and massaged anywhere that was slick and smooth. It was nice. Better than nice. Though he needed to go further. But to where?
He put her decisive thoughts to rest when a long finger slid easily in between her folds. Again with the silent moan. Sometimes she wished she could be uncouth when it came to her erotic noises. Naomi was a quiet woman when it came to love making. She had no idea what it was that kept her from giving way to an orgasmic shout or whimper.
"Does this feel good?" L asked from between her legs, still sounding ridiculously professional as he fingered her.
She nodded quickly; her eyes were half lidded.
"If that is so, I cannot tell."
With that, he gently spread her vaginal lips and the next thing she felt was the sweep of a dripping wet muscle covered in thousands of little taste buds over the entirety of her vulva.
She fought not to slap her hand over her mouth. How could such a sound escape? How, damnit?
However, L seemed pleased as he pulled away with his thin lips shining from her moisture curved into another cryptic smile.
His smiles were amazing. Ambiguous, strange, creepy even. But whatever else they were, above all they were genuine. Yet despite his quiet enjoyment of pleasuring her, Naomi still wanted to make him writhe just as she had. L certainly had no problem going where he had never gone before and taking notes on the way. If he could do it, so could she.
Pushing his head away from her privates and sitting up, she took a tiny bit of pleasure from seeing his confused expression. He was working from curiosity. Her, from pure experience. She looked at him intently, like she almost would when questioning a detainee.
"Lie on your back, L."
He seemed to freeze at the command. The entire time neither of them had technically been calling the shots, but his surprise evidently meant that he thought he had some kind of control in the situation. Well, while that may be true, Naomi thought, it was time to show him that women could exude as much power as a man could. A female's ministrations were not something to take lightly, he would soon learn.
They switched places. L lied on his back just like she asked him to do, awkward as ever. If this wasn't the grandest detective planet Earth had ever known lying in front of her bare as the day he was born with an infantile thumb apprehensively at his teeth, she would have laughed until her stomach hurt at the thought of making love to someone so odd. But looking at him, his erection shamelessly against his abdomen and his wide sleepless eyes fixated on her with trepidation, she found her stomach hurting in a very different way. She was hungry. Hungry for the ultimate reassurance. What better source to gain that reassurance than from her boss and mentor?
Naomi climbed on top of the detective and straddled his thighs, high enough so that she didn't touch him at all, but close enough that she knew his skin could feel the wet heat from in between her legs. Soft brown eyes traveled from his stomach back up to his face, and discovered that his air of quiet confidence was beginning to wither away. Part of her liked that; liked that he was finally realizing that not everything can be analyzed like a science project. The other part, however, made her furrow her brow in alarm. She was a compassionate woman, truth be told. It never did her well to see someone look ill at ease. Least of all, L. The L. Her L.
She put a hand concernedly against the center of his chest, her thumb sub consciously rubbing the skin hoping to somewhat soothe whatever was ailing him.
"Are you okay?"
His wide eyes flickered as their gazes locked. The prominent Adam's apple at the center of his neck made a noticeable swallow, and he managed a shy open mouthed smile.
"I'm about to engage in sexual intercourse."
The sound and annoyed section of her mind threatened to blurt out what was your first clue? But she didn't. Really, it didn't even make it to her throat. Instead, she stayed blank at his uncanny and ridiculously obvious statement. The odd smile disappeared from his face, and his brow bunched together as well.
"It's absurd that I didn't think of this sooner…"
"Think about what?" She asked softly but curtly. Talking was for work. Talking was for business. Quaint conversation. This had to be the first time in her life when she least wanted to talk. But she didn't dare interrupt L. He never said anything without good reason.
"There's a chance of impregnation. I can't do this."
The fire beneath her skin was replaced by a chilly sheet of ice. She hadn't thought about it either. But not from a lack of experience and/or rationality. There was no need for her to think about pregnancy, honestly.
It had been a long time since she had thought about her miscarriage. Funny that she'd be reminded of it now. Perfectly fitting, inevitable, but still funny. Though she felt everything but the desire to laugh. She supposed it was understandable for him to consider it though. Obviously it was doubtful that he had some form of contraceptive close at hand.
"I can't have children."
Her body was cooling down. Thank god he was still warm; otherwise she might've frozen to death from the memory of throbbing crimson and pain. Laying in the bathtub, warm and streaked with her blood, all over her skin and matting up her dark hair. Her pants around her ankles, her larynx racked with sobs that wouldn't be quenched by any amount of consolation.
"I only miscarry."
What would his reaction be, she wondered. Would he deny her anyway? She would understand. She really would.
As if to prove her knowledge of the fact that L never ran out of surprises, he leaned up against her, wrapped his hands under her arms and across the taut velvety skin of her back, and kissed her lips. She felt no tongue prod her mouth for permission to enter. The urge to smile at the weirdly comforting gesture was powerful as he pulled away.
"That is most unfortunate, Naomi." He said in a low voice. Something in his tenor made her feel like he had shared the brief rush of recollections, that he had seen her pain. She wouldn't be surprised; his perceptiveness was boundless.
"But reiterating what I said, I can't have children. So worrying about impregnating me is useless."
He said nothing to that at first, but still looked uncertain in his own dispassionate way. Then, "And reiterating what I had said as well, I'm about to engage in sexual intercourse."
Talking. More talking.
In a brief show of defiance, she moved her pelvis downward and dipped his erection against her wetness. His reaction was instantaneous; a gasp escaped that composed mouth of his, and his face contorted into what would've looked like a painful grimace to anyone else.
In an almost pleading voice, she told him, "No more talking."
Soft, but resolute.
He seemed nervous again; however she was tired of waiting. Taking his spidery hands and resting them on her thighs, she took his erection in her hand and lined it up with her moist entrance. Labored breathing escaped his lips, and she never looked away from his eyes that were once again as wide as they could possibly go. Her tongue sweeping out to wet her lips, and she slowly sank down around him. His eyes were half closed, and his long black eyelashes were just barely distinguished against the darkness of his eyes. Finally she sat against him, getting used to the feeling of him being fully immersed inside of her.
The grip on her thighs trembled and attempted to hold on for dear life. His expression was nearly pitiable. The warmth had returned full force, spreading with aim through her swollen bloodstream, but his evident anxiety made her think twice about taking him quick and fast. Something told her that it might not be the appropriate approach, despite them both being adults and knowing well what was about to transpire. So, hoping to relieve him of his sudden fear, she sat upon him motionlessly, using her inner muscles to squeeze his engorged length and tenderly massaging his torso.
Strangely enough, this didn't seem to help. The more she touched him, the more he seemed to recoil, withdrawing into his anxiety. Leaning down so their faces were closer, she stared at him curiously, giving him an expression much more suiting of his face than hers. But at least it got his attention. Wide eyes fitting for a nocturnal bird of prey met hers in delicate shock as their noses almost touched.
"L, you're supposed to enjoy it."
"And I do." He replied breathlessly, but without missing a beat.
"Your body seems to be having a conflict about that." Naomi said, reaching up and cupping his sharp jaw line.
"I'm not used to this. At all." L said. "But you're making it hard to resist."
More talking. She sat up again, and this time she moved her hips against him slightly. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as his eyes closed, rolling backwards before disappearing behind wakeful lids. Narrow pale fingers gripped her thighs with a tentative possessiveness, and she'd be damned if she would allow him to let go of her. Not now, not when she was finally with him in the only way she thought would be truly just.
He throbbed inside of her, quivering and at attention as she gripped him in her vice. Every vein in his member pumped a never-ending supply of blood cells and did not go unnoticed by the soft textured lining of her walls. There was always something enthralling about being on top. Although being on bottom had its charms as well (especially if you were too tired to be doing all of the work), looking down on your partner as slew after slew of emotions flickered across their face as the two of you shared the mutual quakes of sex just made the divine climb to the top of the mountain all the more enjoyable.
Everything about this should have felt otherworldly and erroneous. And in a way, it did. Naomi was not a moral-lacking human being. Nor did she have an easy time letting go of things, in spite of what her cohorts in the FBI were led to believe. Her inability to shoot that child so many years ago seriously gelded her confidence in herself and in her career. No matter how many moans escaped her mouth, no matter how many times she kissed the man below her, no matter how much she loved the feeling of finally having the one person who seemed to believe in her abilities irrefutably even when she herself didn't inside of her, she still thought about Ray. About Rue Ryuuzaki. About her failure.
About everything, and along side of that, not a thing. So many paradoxes danced wildly in her skull, high on life and love, death and destruction.
She could only imagine what she looked like to him. She could easily be able to tell what he looked like to her. It was a rare and striking sight when he would close his eyes and sigh, or tilt his head slightly to the side as he stared at her naked form on top of him trying his hardest to analyze whatever was the subject of his erratic thoughts at the moment.
Her body's movements sped up against her mind's wishes to keep going the slow steady and torturous speed for the rest of eternity. She didn't want to go back to the thundering pulp of reality just yet. But her body wanted more, needed more. L throbbed inside of her; filled her up and drove her further to the edge. Her right hand, the one that she once used to hold her gun, and also had the most damaged cuticles anyone could lay eyes on, reached down and cupped one of her breasts, trapping the nipple between her middle and ring finger. There was no use in trying to be in control when they were doing this; she was tired of always thinking of others, to be honest. She didn't know whether he had a problem with selfishness, but if he did, the guileless detective would have no problem-
There was no hesitance when she looked down at him. His moan, simple and breathy, caught her attention with little effort. Russet browns met infinite blacks that were filled with a lust that they had never experienced but were already processing it so they could truly understand. What was this like for him, she briefly wondered. Was it like a mathematical problem and their reproductive organs were variables? Or was the analytical side of his brain completely thrown out the window by the swaying arms of raw emotion?
She doubted it was the latter. But then again, this was L. He could never be completely figured out. And did she even want to delve into the layers? What possessed him to even sacrifice this much time to her?
All of this rushed through her head at an unidentifiable speed. That moan that escaped his lips was infallible, mystic. For it contained her name. To have it sound so human when it had only been spoken like a robot was perfection to her ears.
"What is it?" Naomi asked him.
Jaw dropping in bewilderment as he gripped her thighs tighter than before, she was forced to stop moving. She bit her lip; his touch almost hurt.
"I'd like to be on top now." For once the candid tone was extraneous. The huskiness in his voice sent a creeping swell of surrender through her body.
In a fluid movement he gracefully flipped her over on her back, a hand gently cradling her head and his hips still in between her legs. He may have had a gaunt appearance, but she noticed the pale thighs of steel shaped by definite practice of martial arts. L kissed her forehead through a thin curtain of damp dark brown bangs and smiled at her. All of a sudden she felt small and compact. On top of him it was like standing on a cliff and staring at the endless view. While below him, there was a wall. A wall of pale grayish flesh that shielded her from her fears and misgivings. Any doubts and uncertainties, although very alive and well, lay tucked away and briefly forgotten as he lowered his head to brush his lips against her neck, her slender collar bone, and one of her glowing cheekbones. So achingly placid, he was. Treating her not like a queen, not like a servant or a slave, not like an agent. Just…as she was. Even when nervousness reared its head, he was rarely tentative. What was there for him to be afraid of? A woman's body was obviously a mystery to him; and like everything else, he wanted to solve it, and he would solve it. But the glaze in his eyes was not one of a calculating sleuth, at least not entirely. Something else thankfully diluted the blank ocular varnish, and it made her tremble beneath him each time their gazes met.
Naomi was normally insistent of being on top. The only power she ever held in life was the quiet kind, the type that would only gain attention through hard work and indirect affect. To grind on top of your partner and be able to control their actions somehow was pleasing. She never felt important being on bottom in general, sexual or not.
A warm deft hand placed itself in the concave nape of her neck, feeling the blood flow trying to supply her brain with fresh oxygen. Dear lord she just wished he would move...
As if he read her mind, he did. She softly arched her lithe pale beige back against his first fluid thrust, and was mildly thrilled when they didn't stop their onslaught. It was true that such a pleasurable arrangement would mean that he wouldn't last long, but her goal wasn't to reach an orgasm. In fact…he had more than proved that he was different from Rue Ryuuzaki, so it was lost on her what her reason for doing this was. But her cares for that were lost as well. L lay upon her, giving her what she secretly and regrettably wanted for years since the Los Angeles case. The voice of artifice had a body, mind, personality, and an obscurity that he would not let go even while being this intimate with someone.
Once again, she didn't care. Naomi lifted up her legs and wrapped them around his waist, and gasped when it made him go deeper at the seemingly small change in position. L looked down at her, inches away from her face, breathing softer than she. Amazing, really, how quiet they both were. Often someone associates finally achieving your fantasy with dropped jaws, scrunched faces, and ecstatic yelps. But the only noises that ever escaped from the two of them were the soft constancy of panting and occasional gasps and moans that never quite made it to the brink of being plainly audible.
Five minutes. Ten minutes maybe. It was wishful thinking to believe that it was fifteen. It wasn't easily believed that he would last longer than that. L adopted a slightly more frenzied pace, and his brow tightened considerably in concentration. She closed her eyes and willed time to freeze everything but their movements. Her arms hooked themselves around his chiseled shoulders and neck, holding his head down beside hers so she could hear his uneven pants softly stirring against her eardrum. A request for time to slow down again would probably be ignored; her granted desires were decidedly all used up by now. To say she didn't want anything else besides this was too selfless, untrue too. Perhaps if she had known the future she would've cherished it a lot more, but at the moment her fingers latched onto his skin, gripping so hard there would probably be indents of her prints in her wake.
A feeling of suffocation at what she was doing should have grabbed hold of her throat and made it so she was unable to breathe. But that feeling never came. And neither did the shock. She was in complete comprehension with what she was doing, and yet she had no disappointment that the experience wasn't proving to be more spiritual or fulfilling; to be joined with the prime subject who she craved carried an appropriate amount of intensity without achieving to exist on another plane of existence from a mind altering orgasm. And she must have meant more to L than he let on, otherwise he wouldn't be here, letting her violate his personal space and vice versa. His fingers firmly brushed the shell of her ear as his hand buried itself in her dark tangled tresses. He was close; through the flesh of her left breast her heart could beat in tune with his.
The force of his final thrusts sent jarring tremors through her body. Her eyes widened at the sight of the detective above her warping his face into something that resembled pain. It was called into question whether he counted on this. Concern almost wormed its way into Naomi's features as L's response to his upcoming climax was fascinating and a little scary. Dexterous fingers pale like smooth roots of a slender tree tightened around her skin. A sprint of surprise swept through her mind; did he really have…no idea what was about to happen? The all too familiar rush always brought on a natural etching of expressions that looked almost like agony, but as the man above her panted and clutched her like a child afraid to fall into a nonexistent void Naomi held him back with the same kind of strength. Her neck craned itself backwards just the slightest so she could see the inevitably pained look on his face, and nearly sighed in sympathy when he stared back at her with wavering dilated pupils and fluttering eyelids. The probability of him ever manipulating himself to attain this sensation in the past was decidedly slim. Either way, she closed her eyes, let L bury himself within her for the last time, and wished from the pit of her heart that this would offer at least a small amount of finality. Her body was the courtroom, her mind the judge, L the defendant.
The softest deepest sound she ever heard in her life reached her ear in a hot puff of air.
The contours of his jaw tightened against her shoulder as he gritted his teeth, and she could merely hold him as he set the both of them aflame. Glass choirs cracked and fractured as their soundless efforts to sing were an understandable failure; his completion caused any other sound he could have made to stay locked in his throat. His essence coated her barren insides; soothed the hostile environment of her interiors and forgave them for not being able to support and carry what would have been a forbidden start of an unwanted meiosis. The choir of smooth melted sand's tenors echoed and began to fade. L trembled, his body over swept with a powerful sensitivity, and gently collapsed on top of her. While her skin was only a little damp, his was covered in sweat from a deed that was obviously not researched enough before hand. Or perhaps the experience was not as close to the textbook descriptions as he thought it would be.
He possessed a wiry figure, but his weight was becoming too much for her, and she gently rolled over and brought him to his side. The dark intense stare that he was so well known for retreated behind his eyelids. Naomi was at a slight loss; he looked so vulnerable lying there, shivering like frost was clinging to his form, with his eyes shut tight and his lips cracked, breath passing through the crumbling flesh gates like an escapee constantly returning. For a few moments she could only stare in a numb harmless shock at the sheer fall of this man's defenses, all because of her trial. Deciding to bring him back to earth, she reached over and gently cupped his bony shoulder, and he finally opened his briefly but evidently pleading eyes.
"Are you okay?" She asked him, trying to keep her voice as quiet as humanly possible for her sake as well as his. Five to ten minutes of blocking out every other sound besides her skin against his caused their ears to back down from other noises.
L blinked once, and slowly. It looked like he was trying to obtain his composure again, to sharpen his mind to what it once was. His Adam's apple smoothly shifted in a deep swallow before he said anything.
"I didn't quite…expect that."
His tense muscles relaxed slightly, and he decided to stare at something past Naomi's head. With a memory like his, she was sure he could recollect everything that happened like it was crystal clear until the day he died. Of course, that could always be her wishes talking.
A soft 'ch' sound escaped his mouth, a corner of his lips quirking upward in amusement.
"I had read about it before. It was unwise of me to subconsciously assume that reading is the same as experiencing."
L pulled away from her touch and sat up. He brought up a hand to his chin and tilted it sideways to release a few hearty cracks from the joints in his neck. Naomi almost smiled. He was going back to normal at last. It sure was something to see such an unruffled person unleash what was normally kept under strict supervision, but she had to admit that the collected disturbingly blank visage was more appropriate for him. And she hoped those small engaging glances were reserved for her and only her, but there would probably be someone else to receive them in his life. A prize she had won, but she would not take it with pride. Now that the heated moments were over, she was once again drenched in her own humility.
"However…" He said, glancing down at her. "You didn't…or at least, it didn't seem like you-"
Her lips turned upward as she softly shook her head. L's seemingly nonexistent eyebrows tightened.
"Shame…I apologize that it wasn't mutual."
"Don't." Naomi said, sitting up as well and resting her hand encouragingly against his long neck. "It's not important. That kind of stuff is only in stories."
For a split second L narrowed his eyes. He probably didn't like the way she phrased the short sentence. Her minor enjoyment followed as she realized he probably thought she was making the implication that her pleasure wasn't as important as his. Smart, brilliant L. Infinite in everything except for what took place and the after glow of it. But already his mind was regaining its astute edge that was always one step ahead of the entire planet. She never thought him the type to bask anyways; as powerful as his first climax seemed, she could sense his growing anxiousness to abandon her and return to his work.
Though, before he would leave and get her out of his hair, she reached over and grabbed his chin to pull him towards her. Like she'd never be able to do it again (which she wouldn't), she kissed him quietly, and tried to incorporate every single one of her conflicted, tremulous, and devoted feelings. Their lips delicately touched with the tenderness that suited the relationship between a mother and child, but sparks of sin and desire more or less dissipated that notion.
Naomi felt warm. Not hot like when they fornicated and not cold like she should be for the plaintive reality of what they had just done. Just…warm. He tried to return the sweetness of the kiss, but she could tell that his mind was elsewhere now. L pulled away and began to talk out of his swollen chapped lips.
"I should go now." He stated. Strange, there was sullenness to his voice, like he didn't know what was supposed to happen next.
"I understand." She replied without pausing.
L rose from the bed, finding his jeans and sliding them on and Naomi was pleasantly reminded of his lack of undergarments.
"Naomi Misora is very adept in bed." He said absentmindedly as he tugged on his off-white shirt. It was so off handed and soft spoken she hardly heard it, but she wanted to laugh anyway.
The strange lack of sentiment in the air was already sucking away at the serenity, but she did nothing to stop it. She got what she wanted; she hoped L did too. Now was not the time to start appraising everything and finding out how worthless it possibly was.
"The cameras are still off. Feel free to get dressed."
L stood still for a moment with his hands in his pockets like he was trying to remember something. His eyes widened as he spied his coffee cup still sitting on the small table next to the chair. His long arms reached over and held the cup and the saucer like it was made of the thinnest crystal drinking deeply what was probably ice cold coffee by now.
She knew she should probably untangle herself from the soiled sheets. She knew she should probably put on her clothes. And she knew she should probably let the man go back to his work before any more predominant criminals decided to take advantage of L's rare and uncharacteristically personal endeavor. All she could do, however, was sit and stare at this hunched genius with whom she had lain. Her hand clutched the satin sheet against her chest for a modesty that was useless and necessary at the same time. She should leave him, leave his pale skinned temple of confessions, and go back to Ray. Keep their trial a secret.
"L…" She said.
"…Why did you do this with me?"
"Because it appeared to be a wish of yours. I suppose I deny little of my best agents; you being the only one so far, of course."
"You're so busy, though. It doesn't make sense."
"Hmm…that's only half of it, I'll admit. I'm going to be honest with you, Naomi. Because I know I can." L said, taking another sip of his cooled coffee. "I'm beginning an investigation of a very intriguing series of deaths that have left what most people call a very cold and coincidental trail."
As if studying the substance itself, he stared at the contents of the cup briefly before downing it in a flash.
"Naturally, I know better."
"And where do I fit in all of this?" She asked.
"Knowledge and deduction greatly help define the steps towards solving a case, but my intuition relies little on reason or proof. I don't believe I've ever had to say this…" He paused. "But there's a good chance I'll lose my life trying to catch the culprit."
The statement sent a jolt through her nervous system. The thought of losing him was repellent. The world needed him. She needed him. In that high pitched androgynous voice in the phone or computer or in person. Despite the flurry of unpleasant emotions brought forth from what he said, she kept quiet.
"I can't trust very many people. Or rather…I won't." Still looking ridiculously like his normal self, standing there holding a random cup, he turned his head to her and looked nearly mournful. "You're incredibly smart, and flawed as well. Yet you embrace the reality of the existence of your imperfections and incorporate them as advantages instead of faults."
Blinking somberly, Naomi said nothing to the compliments. They meant too much to spoil with sputtering gratitude on her part.
"I guess…what I'm trying to say is that my clock is ticking and my ability to trust dwindles even more, which says a lot. Perhaps it was time to let someone slip through the cracks before they closed completely."
"Oh…" Was all that escaped from her tired lips. A world without L. It would remain disgustingly unchanged, for his existence influenced the planet in unseen unrewarded ways.
"Don't fret." He said, sounding strangely whimsical. "So, did I convince you?"
Naomi closed her eyes for a few seconds. Along with the electric colored vessels and dark red background of her eyelids, she saw a horrifically scarred version of L rotting away in prison. She saw the giant letter 'L'; a crude representation of the real person, in her opinion. And she saw herself, lonely and discontented so liberally that it was too deep to show. Lonely. Was he lonely?
Setting down the cup and saucer, he shuffled over to the side of the bed and gestured for her to take both of his hands. A smirk threatened to spread across her face. This kind of chivalry was charming, she decided. She only gave him one of her hands so she could use the other one to hold the sheet against her still bare body. It proved difficult to look into his suddenly excited expression, but she acknowledged the fact that she would leave him forever soon, and stared at him. Despite the shakiness his attention could inflict on her (and possibly anyone else who dared to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds), he bestowed confluence. Naomi inwardly frowned. How on earth did he do this to people…?
Sometimes she wished she the power to make people's insides curl with contradictions.
"A great road is ahead of us; I know it, and I can sense it." He mused, and his inquisitive wide eyed look completely betrayed his ominous words. "I trust you'll be careful."
"And chances are we won't meet again. Or at least not for an extended amount of time."
She nodded again. The pulse in her wrist thumped gently against his palm. The former part of his sentence rang more true. It wasn't in her nature to be unrealistically optimistic.
They wouldn't meet again.
Bending the blatant curvature of his neck even more, he leaned down and left a feathery brush with his lips on her cheek. She wanted to squirm; a frozen-in-time package of intimacy with a sought-after recluse detective and she still craved his touch. But the heat was over, and there was no going back in time to savor what she might not have. Though, she was fairly sure her mind documented more than enough details of their interlude.
Still, it wasn't enough. It'd never be enough to remember. A tiny laugh was stifled; when in the world had she become so selfish?
His grasp on her hand disengaged, and he signaled that he was ready to start shuffling towards the door. She could understand his eagerness, despite his patience to explain to her why he went along with her impulsiveness. It wouldn't do to keep him here anymore.
L gently picked up his empty coffee cup again and licked the edges that were lightly caked with sugary residue. "I'll ask again for you to dress; once I return to the control room I'll have to turn the cameras back on. Every room must be under surveillance, you see."
"Right…" She said, and reached for her bra and underwear first. Even then, she turned away.
"Well then…" L said, glancing elsewhere as if there was something more he wanted to say than his impending farewell. Perhaps some clever satisfying aphorism was on the tip of his tongue.
But wishful thinking had crossed her mind throughout the night like a broken record.
A small smile amplified his mystifying dark eyes. Creepy, but portrayed out of good intentions.
"Take care." He murmured softly, the slightest hint of affection in his voice.
Like a two legged crab that had learned to stand upright, he opened the door to the room and slid behind it. It clicked closed and the metal sounded loudly in the now empty space, save for her half naked self.
She was going to miss her odd boss; with his errant hints exhibited only for her.
Doubt, loss, and regret should have hung heavy in the air, and it's possible that it did. Naomi was not deadened, but she felt few sensations as she promptly finished dressing herself. The sweat was drying on her skin and she gripped the loop holes of her jeans to slide them on. After the few precious minutes of bare freedom she had been gifted with, her black sweatshirt, while the threads were soft, confined her skin uncomfortably.
She left the bedroom, seemingly bereft of any sign that ever could have pointed to what had just occurred. The building was relatively empty. No one encountered her in the hallways, and after a second thought opting for the stairs instead of an elevator, no one was in there either. As she set foot on each step, it was a sequenced recount of she and L's joining, replaying and replaying, without any impeding grain that would come with any normal memory. A large 'exit' sign in neon green kanji characters on the first floor east of the main entrance caught her attention and she slipped out of it discreetly. But even though no one had seen her leave the hotel, she still pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head to hide her profile. Useless measures perhaps, considering that as far as she could tell there was no one in the vicinity and that L's security was probably one of the best ever established, but one could never be too sure. And one should never eliminate an action that brought answers or protection, no matter how strange it looked.
That was one thing Ryuuzaki had right. With his crawling around on the floor and lying face up, and the way he dipped his fingers into a jar of marmalade and scooped it out and ate it right off his knuckles…
A shiver struck her body at the thought.
The streets were quite warm, but the farther she walked from the detective's hotel back to her own place of residence in which she currently lived in with Ray, the cooler she became. She was the type of person who got sentimental when the time called for it, but didn't let it go to her head; not completely at least. Now that she was away from L for probably the rest of her life, she thought an unbiased uncontaminated view of him would once again grow its roots in her mind. But…she found that, now that she had acquired the proof that she was after, the fond memoirs of the detective on top of her panting softly and treating her like the flawed hurting human she was spun through her frontal lobe like a mist. A mist that held the changed view of him, but it never came across as tainted.
Maybe it should have been disturbing how she planned on returning to the roost with her fiancé hardly carrying an ounce of guilt for what she had done. Maybe it should have been disturbing how before that day she had desperately tried to take comfort that Rue Ryuuzaki was burned beyond recognition and rotting in a California penitentiary. Maybe she should have been at least a little fearful about the affectionate emotions regarding the detective fluttering through her veins and riding on her blood cells happy as they pleased without the permission of her mind.
The feeling of L's hands boldly but restfully kneading against her body was the proof. Beautiful, emotional, tremulous, restoring proof. Her comfort no longer came from the negative thought of Beyond's scarred face behind bars; an ugly fantasy that had no real standing any way she looked at it. Now she had something real to hold onto, something real to help regulate her breathing during the nights she remembered the flames lick BB's skin and freaked out from the darkness of the room closing in on her, unbeknownst to her fiancé sleeping right next to her in the same bed.
A tear slipped out from the margins of her eyelids, and soon she was shaking her head and combining choked sobs with strangled laughs. It was overflowing; this sudden feeling of security. So foreign, so intense; it was almost too much. But her lips twisted themselves wide until they resembled a disquieting form of a smile, the ones people used when everything inside of them spilled over the rim.
Naomi Misora reached up and wiped away the tears made from overwhelming realization with rough calloused hands. There was no reason to feel bitter. L had taken away the pain.